Quigley Heads Home
by Random Guise
Summary: Based on "Quigley Down Under". A short one shot, it takes place immediately after the movie as Matthew "Roy" Quigley and Cora Cobb head home to America from Australia. Quigley is a wanted man, and it is a three month journey back home. I don't own these characters, and I've never been on a sailing ship.


Quigley Heads Home

(Excerpts from the diary of James P. Thompson, Captain of the ship _Swift Voyage_.)

March 23, 1876

Two days out from Fremantle, Western Australia on our three month voyage back to the United States. As usual, the passenger list is light on the trip east, with a mixture of people going back home or leaving home. Thirteen paid passengers booked for the passage to San Francisco, along with the usual bulk cargo coming from Australia. I am a bit uneasy having thirteen, as it is an unlucky number; however, we sail with who we have. May God bless us on our trip.

Oddly enough, one of the passengers refuses to sleep in the cabin he has paid for, opting to sleep on deck in the good weather. While Roy Cobb sleeps on deck, his wife Cora sleeps in the cabin. At first I thought that she might be sick, but she seems in good health and they spend a great deal of time together during the day so I threw out that idea. I next thought that they might have had a fight, but they seem to enjoy each other's company as well so that isn't why either. He stays out of the way and has pitched in to help on the odd job, so I have nothing to complain about. His wife could talk the paint off a shed if she had the notion, though. Maybe he does it for the peace and quiet!

Jenkins won the prize for catching the first rat on our trip. His prize was an extra bit of fish in his dinner bowl after which he mewed appreciatively.

March 24

I've talked to some of the other passengers by now. We have a professor of science eventually bound to New York, an older couple by the name of Blair who have retired and are leaving Australia for good, a few young people whose sense leans more toward adventure rather than common, and a few rather rough types that I will be keeping an eye on. Unofficial word is that their tickets were bought by the government to get them out of the country, but this is unconfirmed. Their names are Cooke, Huntley and one that seems to only go by "Mule".

March 26

We picked up an additional passenger in Auckland today, a Miss Garvey bound for home in Los Angeles. We say goodbye to land as we enter the Great Pacific.

As the land disappeared over the horizon, I was visited by Mr. Cobb who clarified why he slept on deck. It would seem that Cobb is an assumed name he is traveling under for political reasons. He and Miss Cobb are unmarried and therefore sleep apart; however, as captain of the ship he has asked me to marry them now that we "have left civilization behind" as he put it. I don't know the circumstances of his political standing, but he seems a man of moral standing and I only too gladly agreed to conduct the private ceremony.

That night some disagreement among the three roughs took place regarding Miss Garvey. The matter was settled among themselves. Why does it always have to be over a woman?

March 28

Married Matthew Quigley and Cora Cobb today in a private ceremony in my cabin, attended by First Mate Craven-Moss.

In the light of day it would appear the three roughs had quite the argument; all three seem equally injured. They claim they slipped on a bar of soap, but from their smell I don't believe they have the acquaintance of said item. No witnesses came forward so the matter was dropped. My observation tells me Huntley has become the leader of the three.

April 5

A bit of weather today, but nothing too serious. Mr. "Cobb" had to move his saddle below decks to avoid the rain after being worked on during the day. He promises something special later in the trip.

An odd thing did occur that night. I was woken from my sleep by what sounded like a yell. Looking out my cabin window I thought I saw a large shape hanging from one of the masts. I had the mate on duty check, but nothing was found.

April 6

Passenger Huntley seems to be walking with a limp today. When questioned, it would seem the bar of soap struck again and caused a fall. Perhaps the soap also caused an irritation that resembles a rope burn around his arm.

We seem to be making excellent time and might cut a week or more off our journey if the winds remain favorable.

April 21

There has been a blunder by our ship's cook. It is his duty to ensure all supplies are checked when loaded, but it would seem he was a little lax this trip and two of the crates that were supposed to contain dried meat actually contained canvas. We were facing strict rations for the crew until Mr. Cobb donated extra supplies he had brought along for the trip. For being an American, he certainly is an outstanding individual.

May 5

Cowboy day on the _Swift Voyage_. Our passenger Mr. Cobb has set up his saddle on one of the mast booms and is giving the other passengers riding lessons while the others help to shift it back and forth. Afterward there was a marksmanship demonstration in which he was able to shoot a target set up on the bow while standing on the stern. He then set up targets on the rail and invited the best shooter to a contest with his Colt pistol. Huntley stepped forward and gave a good performance, followed by Cobb who was almost as good. I'm not sure, but I believe he missed two targets on purpose for the purpose of fostering good will. He even awarded Huntley a lasso as a prize and taught him how to use it. For an extraordinary moment it appeared as though Huntley smiled.

Caught sight of our sister ship, the _Miss Liberty_ as she made her way west toward our home port.

May 23

Two months out party. We opened the ship's stores for some spirits that was saved for the occasion. All passengers had a good time with the expectation of a bit less than three weeks left on the trip, according to our calculations.

I'm afraid the first mate imbibed a bit too much and loosened his tongue, for I caught him spilling the news about Mr. Cobb's real name to Huntley. Huntley sobered quickly and left the room, only to seek me out later and ask if I knew where the British Consulate was in San Francisco. I admitted I did not and he excused himself.

May 24

I admit to not knowing what to do. In a fit of remorse for his actions, the first mate snuck into Huntley's cabin and found a wanted poster for an American Matthew Quigley on the charge of murder. No sketch was provided, but 200 pounds paid in silver was no small matter.

Perhaps this was the political reason of which he spoke; all I know is that this either isn't the man they are looking for, or there is a mistake. My passenger is no murderous American. I had the mate put back the poster where he found it.

June 6

I write this now to recount the events of two days ago. The _Swift_ was sailing at night through a summer storm in moderate swells when I was thrown out of my bunk with a crash. I knew it must be a collision, but we were near no charted islands or shoals.

Rushing to the bridge, I was informed that the collision was with another ship, a schooner of some sort. Due to the waves, its storm lanterns weren't visible until after the ships were already together. It was a glancing blow, but the real danger emerged quickly when both ships were on opposite sides of a wave trough. Their masts came together, and as they started to separate were snagged by a line near the top. With both ships locked together, they started to bang and beat each other with each wave, while being pitched at an angle toward each other. It wasn't long before portions of the railing began breaking off and I feared that the hull would be breached soon before someone could climb up and sever the snarled rope.

As I watched, Johnson tried to climb the mast before the pitching of the ship tossed him to land painfully on the deck before he had made it to the top. As I prepared to give the order to clear whatever passengers were below decks, Cobb appeared with his rifle. I ordered the lanterns to be directed upward and he set his sights on the very top of the mast where the rope led to the other ship. In the wind and rain, his first shot was a hit but only frazzled the rope.

His second shot struck home as well, but this time severed the rope and sent wood splinters to the deck below. The ship, released from its tether to the other vessel, swung upright quickly and flung Huntley overboard. Cobb lay down his rifle and picked up a deck rope which was nearby, and wound it around his waist. He handed the other end to me without a word and dove overboard still clad in only his long underwear; I quickly tied the other end to a post and ordered lanterns outward as I played out the line. When I felt three strong quick tugs I began reeling in the rope, getting some assistance from other crew members. We hauled him over the side, and in his grasp was a sputtering Huntley. Both were taken inside and administered warm blankets and hot drink. We stayed in the vicinity until the next day to assess our damage and check on the other ship.

June 17

San Francisco, a sight I have not been happier to see. Fortunately both ships were still seaworthy after the incident, but I think we are in need of a longer stay than normal for repairs. I bid the passengers goodbye at the gangway, with particularly hearty thanks to Cobb. If America is made of people such as him, she will not fail in anything she undertakes.

Just before I ducked back into my cabin I looked over at the docks and saw Huntley and his two friends shaking hands with Cobb. They seemed to have a genuine friendship in evidence, and as I watched Huntley removed a paper from his person and gave it to Cobb. From a distance it appeared to be the wanted poster for Quigley. They shook hands again and parted company; it would seem adversity does bring people together. I shall never know the full story, but if anyone asks it is my opinion that the wanted Quigley chap is still somewhere in Australia.

Johnson is being treated for a broken arm from his fall and will be in a sling for part of our journey home. I don't know how many more trips we will make; I think steam will soon replace sail and I would be happier retired rather than shoveling coal.

Rats aren't the only thing Jenkins has caught on this trip. Buttercup is heavy with kittens and we should have some extra mouths to feed on the journey back. I will lay in an extra stock of fish for the new family.

The End

 **A/N: I think this is just about the newest western I've watched. The music is great, the scenery terrific, and the good guy wins. Just about everything I want in a western, even if it is way Way WAY out west.**

 **On the writing front, I wanted to do a story sometime that was told entirely without dialogue, and excerpts from the captain's journal seemed like the way to go. Perhaps sometime I shall try the opposite and write a story with nothing BUT dialogue.**


End file.
